


A Different Sort of Magic

by The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff



Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [7]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: 17. DEC 11 - Witch/Psychic, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2019, M/M, Renaissance Faires, Spoilers for Book 2: Wayward Son, inasmuch as the fact that they go to a ren faire is a spoiler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:14:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21763576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff/pseuds/The_Honeyed_Hufflepuff
Summary: A deleted scene from the Ren Faire in which Simon, Baz, & Penny visit that shop selling crystals & magickal artefacts...
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2019 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557748
Comments: 4
Kudos: 94
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2019





	A Different Sort of Magic

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Carry On Countdown 2019 - Witch/Psychic
> 
> Based on an encounter Mr HH & I had in a crystal shop yesterday lol

**SIMON**

This Faire is _wicked._

I've got a turkey leg, a massive Coke, and a funnel cake churning pleasantly in my belly. The sun's shining. Everyone here's so _friendly,_ even if their accents are sort of rubbish. (Penny won't stop complaining about it. I think it's part of the charm.) Plus I've got my two favourite people walking on either side of me. Baz is still talking in his Shakespeare voice. Penelope keeps shooting him amused looks over her glasses.

It's perfect, really. The best day I've had in…

I don't know how long.

I don't want to _think_ about how long it's been since I've had a _good day._

We stop for Baz to use the loo (he complains about it but finally gives in; it’s some sort of makeshift outdoor setup so he must really need a piss). Something outside one of the shops up ahead is shimmering in the sun. (It looks lovely, really.) 

Penelope scoffs. “What a load of tosh.”

“Hm?”

She points at the shop. “ _The Inner Eye._ Bollocks. Crystals. Aura photos. _Magickal artefacts._ ”

“Says you can have your fortune told—”

“Ridiculous,” Penny huffs. “Fortunes are faulty at best, even in our world.”

“What about your crystal ball?”

I think she rolls her eyes. (It’s hard to tell sometimes with her glasses.) “It’s an _art,_ Simon. A _magickal_ art. These are Normals selling hopes and dreams.”

“How d’you know? Like. Maybe psychics _are_ Mages. Mages who call themselves psychics.”

“I don’t know why a Mage would want to make a living peddling Normal fortunes.”

I shrug. I almost say something about it not being much different from what _I’m_ doing. I’m a Normal among Mages. A Normal with a tail…

No, I don’t want to think about that _now._ That’s not who I am today.

“We should go in,” Penny says. “Make sure there’s nothing _actually_ magickal.” 

“Pen,” I sigh. I’m really, _really_ trying not to think about magic today. I mean, the real sort. (I like _this_ sort just fine. The Faire itself’s a different sort of magic.)

“It’ll be quick. Mum’d want to…” she trails off, probably realizing she can't tell her mum about finding magickal artefacts for illegal sale in Nebraska. Because her mum doesn’t know she’s _in_ Nebraska. (Her mum doesn’t know she’s in _America._ ) She shrugs. “Well, we should check, anyway. Right, Basil?”

Baz is back from the loo, nostrils flared, lip curled. He looks the way he always used to look when he looked at _me._ “ _That_ was atrocious. Absolutely barbaric—”

Penny rolls her eyes at him. “Come on, your highness—”

“He’s not a highness,” I say. “Wait, are you? Is Othello a highness?” 

Baz rolls his eyes, too, but his lips are curling into a smile instead of a sneer. “Honestly, Snow. You know _Homer_ but not _Shakespeare._ ”

The Mage never had me read Shakespeare. That’s what I tell Baz as we walk into _The Inner Eye._

Penny breaks away almost immediately and starts rifling through things. She’s not very covert about it, but the shop people don’t seem too bothered. (They’re having a chat with another customer about different sorts of gemstones and something called _chakras._ )

There’re _so_ many different coloured stones. They’re beautifuI, really, even if Penny would probably say their properties are tosh. (I find myself wondering if Baz would like one. There’s a lovely green sort called malachite— _draws emotions to the surface and stimulates the Heart Chakra_ —but then I get a glimpse of the price and scrap that idea.) (I’m not sure how the price converts, but it seems like a lot of American dollars.) (I guess I could Google it…) (I pull my wings in tighter to make sure I don’t knock anything over.)

“D’you really think these do what they say?” I ask Baz. (I’m expecting him to say it’s tosh, like Penny, but also I just want to talk to him.) (I want him to talk to me in that Shakespeare voice again.)

“Maybe,” he says, quietly. “The Earth is here, somehow, and people. Magic. _Life.”_ He looks at me with soft eyes and smirks. (His lips... _Merlin,_ his lips. Sometimes I forget how kissable they are.) (I don’t know how I forget.) “I wouldn’t rule it out.” 

We keep walking around the shop while Penny looks for “real” magic. (I don’t think she’s going to find what she’s looking for.) I let my fingers smooth over the stones as we go, and I swear for a second I feel... _different._ (Probably one of those...I can’t remember the word. The thing that happens when they give you sugar pills but you feel better anyway.) There’s a velvety purple curtain at the back of the shop with a lady stood outside it, and when we pass by she says,

"Would you like to take a look through our psychics?" She’s not using a bad English accent. Or a bad Scottish accent. Or a _really_ bad Australian accent. She just sounds... _dreamy._

Baz holds up a hand. "No, thank you." I’m glad he does; I don’t want someone to tell me my future even if it _is_ fake. Because it might not be. And I probably won’t like what they have to say, because I’ll probably still be stuck like this. Magickless. _Purposeless._ A freak…

It’s easier not to think about it.

“Lovely wings,” the woman says as we make our way back towards the front of the shop. 

Baz and I exchange a look, and I have to keep myself from bursting out laughing. (I bite my lip and sort of smile at him instead.) (It feels _good,_ to smile at him. To feel _normal._ ) 

I make sure we’re far enough away from her before making a wide gesture with my arm. " _Would you like to take a look through our psychics?_ " 

Baz laughs, and I want to make him laugh again. It’s such a lovely thing. 

"Weird way to put that, innit?” I say. “What are they, magazines? You gonna pick them up like binoculars?" I pick up a pair of invisible binoculars from the air and hold them to my eyes. (I’m picturing holding a whole person to my eyes, which is so absurd I almost burst out laughing again.)

That’s when I spot the sword shop across the way. 

_Swords._

I almost reach for Baz’s hand to pull him to me. Almost. 

I elbow him in the ribs instead and jerk my head towards the tent. “Can we?” 

Baz’s lips quirk up in a smirk again, and I’m thinking I want to kiss him. He sweeps his arm out towards the sword shop. “Lay on, my boy,” he says with a wink. “Lay on.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all liked this one! I'm not sure how I feel about it re: quality but I had to churn something out for today's prompt!
> 
> Come say hi to me on [Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thehoneyedhufflepuff) I'm a disaster over there.


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